Dreams Can Be Deceiving
by SiLiMi
Summary: Hermione is being haunted by dreams.  Actually, it's just one dream.  The same dream every night.  But aren't dreams truly the window into the subconscious soul?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Sadly, I am not nor will I ever be J. K. Rowling. This is my first Harry Potter fanfic, so please bear with me. I'm a science major, so English and grammar are not really my strongest subjects. I apologize ahead of time of any errors that are sure to ensue. This tale begins at the start of school term after the final battle in DH. There is a possibility that I may disregard the deaths of some characters (probably Snape and Bellatrix for sure), simply because I love these characters and choose not to believe they are dead. Let me know what you think. Thanks, K**

One

He reached out his hand to her. A soft wind ruffled his dark black hair. His piercing green eyes smoldered into her chocolate brown ones.

"Come to me, my darling. Come to me." He coaxed.

She stared back in wonder at his utter beauty. Her hand moved on its own accord, longing to meet with his. Her feet were solidly rooted to the ground. She stretched out her arm, trying to reach him, but still unable to make contact.

"Come to me, my darling. I can give you the world. Come to me." His melodic voice vibrated in her ears as she was swiftly pulled into consciousness.

Hermione awoke, staring up at the ceiling of her bedroom. She had been plagued by the same dream for the past fortnight. It was always the same. The same beautiful unknown boy. The same unobtainable goal. And of course, the same frustrating disappointment when she awoke too soon. There was something about the boy. He was so familiar, yet she was unable to put a name to the face. He looked to be around the age of 17 or 18. His raven black hair and emerald green eyes struck a sharp contrast against his flawless ivory skin. He was tall and had the sinewy muscles of a professional dancer, rather than those of a body builder. His sultry voice was capable of piercing through her eardrum, caressing its way down her ear canal, and melting her heart. Yes. She, Hermione Granger, was completely in love with a boy whom may or may not truly exist.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Hermione heaved her trunk out of the back of her parent's car and onto a dolly. She kissed each of her parents on the cheek, and gave them a short hug goodbye. After Voldemort succumbed to his final death, Hermione has succeeded in retrieving the elder Grangers, and reversing their memory modifications.

"Good luck, sweetheart." Her mother said, pulling her back into a tight embrace.

"Be careful. We'll see you at Christmas." Her father added.

"Everything is going to be fine," she reassured them. "He's really gone this time. I'll just finish off my seventh year, and it'll be off to university next fall. Don't worry. Everything is just fine now."

Another hug and the Grangers tucked themselves back into their car. Hermione watched her parents pause for a stop sign, then turn a corner, and disappear from sight.

She took a deep breath, and willed away the tears threatening to escape her eyes. This would be the first time she had been away from her parent since they had been reunited only a few short months prior. She straightened her back and held her head high. Another deep breath and she pushed the dolly through the train station in search of Platform 9 ¾.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Due to her overwhelming anxiety about the start of term, Hermione found herself to be one of the first students to arrive at the platform. She claimed one of the many empty compartments for her own, and settled herself against the window.

Now, she had plenty of time to sort through the many thoughts she had been avoiding over the past weeks. Professor McGonagall had been named the new Headmistress of Hogwarts, and had issued an invitation to all whose education had been disrupted by the occurrences of the previous year. The school had been returned to its previous grandeur. All signs of the war had meticulously been erased, in hopes of easing the painful memories that still burdened the wizarding world. Inevitably, her thoughts wandered to her mystery dream man. Who was he?

Caught up in her inner-thoughts, Hermione failed to hear the door of the compartment open.

"All right, 'Mione?" a voiced asked.

"Oh! Harry! So good to see you! Sorry, you gave me a bit of a fright there." She stammered. She quickly crossed the compartment to give him a hug.

"Hello, Ron." She said. She started to give him a hug as well, but thought better of it. After an awkward pause, they exchanged nods and resumed their seats. Following the battle, Ron and Hermione had realized that they were no more than friends. They still hadn't figured out how to interact with one another, so conversations were strained and uncomfortable.

The trio had not been together since shortly after the final battle. Hermione had elected to spend what remained of her summer with her parents, and the boys had spent their time at the Burrow with the Weasleys. Hermione and Harry caught up during the long ride to Hogwarts, while Ron sat quietly only commenting when spoken to directly.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The start of term feast was uneventful. The sorting hat gave an elegant speech about bravery and hope for the future. The new first years were sorted, and would be joining classes with the previous first years. Everyone enjoyed a good meal and talking with friends.

As the evening came to an end, Professor McGonagall stood to make one last announcement.

"Due to recent events, it was not until last night that the decision for Head Boy and Head Girl was made. These two students have performed great acts of service not only to the school, but to the wizarding community as well. Please join me in honoring your new Head Boy, Mr. Harry James Potter. As well as Miss Hermione Jean Granger, your new Head Girl. These two students have been an integral part of the restoration for the hope of a brighter future. It is my belief that they will prove to be outstanding role models for their friends and peers." McGonagall stated, clapping her hands. The room erupted in applause, as Harry and Hermione both turned several shades of pink at the praise from their former head of house.

"Now, I would like to ask the prefects to escort the younger students to the dormitories. It is best to have a full night's sleep to prepare yourselves for the beginning of classes in the morning." McGonagall said in her stern voice. "Also, I would like a word with the new Head Boy and Girl. If the two of you could just keep your seats until the others have retired to their rooms, please."

After the other students had vacated the Great Hall, McGonagall presented Harry and Hermione with their badges. After a brief discussion of what was expected of them, she escorted them to the second floor. She led them down a hallway they had never been down before and stopped in front of a large portrait. The portrait was a meadow scene of a girl picking wild flowers. An imaginary breeze blew her strawberry-blonde hair in her face, and her pink dress danced softly against her legs. The girl tucked her hair behind her ear.

A loud gasp issued from Hermione.

"Ariana?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Professor Dumbledore kept this portrait of her here, but I believe you are the first students to ever recognize her." McGonagall concluded. "The password is 'tranquility.' Goodnight."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Harry and Hermione explored their new living quarters. There was a small common room. A large fireplace was the focal point of one wall. A couch and two large arm chairs were positioned around the fireplace. All the fabrics were rich shades of gold and maroon. A marble staircase led to a balcony overlooking the common room. A door at either end of the balcony led to a bedroom.

Harry's room was predominately maroon with gold accents. His trunk was already unpacked. A Gryffindor quidditch pendant hung proudly above his desk. Instead of the traditional twin bed found in the dorms, there was a queen-sized bed covered in a soft maroon duvet with gold piping around the edge. Hermione's room mirrored Harry's. Her room, however, was a kaleidoscope of gold and yellow with tasteful specks of maroon thrown in for added effect.

The new head students marveled over their new accommodations. They explored it thoroughly before ultimately retiring to their respective rooms for the night.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"Come to me, my darling." His voice rang out through the dissipating mist.

Hermione looked around her, trying to find who was calling to her. Finally the last bits of the mist receded, and chocolate eyes connected with emerald ones.

"Come to me, my darling. I can give you the world. Come to me." He beckoned, reaching his hand out to her.

This time, however, was different than before. She took a tentative step forward. Reveling in her new found freedom, a smile spread across her face. Slowly, she started walking toward the dark haired angel that had haunted her dreams. She reached out to place her hand in his, staring into his captivating eyes. Just as she was about to make contact, she was jolted awake by her alarm clock.

Cursing the fool who invented such a device, Hermione rolled out of bed. She had been so close this time. Just a few more seconds. Was that too much to ask for?

With a sigh of regret, she prepared herself for the first day of classes. Sitting in front of her mirror, she looked at the changes that had gone unnoticed. Her previously bushy brown hair had somehow tamed itself into soft mahogany waves over the years. She had finally grown into her teeth, which had always seemed just a tad too big for her mouth. _Not too bad, _she thought. _Maybe this year won't be quite like the rest._

She smiled to herself, enjoying her small ego boost. She swiped on a bit of mascara, and dabbed some lip gloss on her lips. Satisfied with the overall effect, she went down to the common room to meet Harry.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The first few weeks of classes went by quickly. Not having to worry about Voldemort returning or planning some type of intervention to prevent such an occurrence, Hermione was able to complete all of her homework in a timely fashion. This left extra time for her to dwell on her dreams.

Who was he? Why did he seem so familiar? Why could she never stay asleep long enough to get close to him?

She was sitting in the common room contemplating these very questions, when the portrait swung open and slammed closed loudly. She jumped, knocking the long since forgotten book off of her lap onto the floor. She looked up to see Harry storm in, throwing his bag roughly against the wall. The snap came undone; books and parchment cascaded across the floor. A new bottle of ink crashed on the hard marble, bleeding a dark pool around the scattered debris. Harry was muttering incoherently to himself. His face was a deep shade of red. One hand clenched tightly around his wand, while the other roamed through his hair making it stick up more than usual.

"Harry?" Hermione asked quietly. She wasn't sure if she should interrupt his tirade or pretend not to notice.

"Unbelievable!" He yelled.

"Sorry?"

"She's un-fucking-believable! Godric! I don't know what more I can do! Honestly! And to think that she would even begin to think that...Argh!" He threw his hands up in the air, and collapsed into the vacant armchair. He buried both of his hands deep in his hair. Through gritted teeth he muttered, "Women!"

"I'm not exactly sure if you are talking to me or to yourself, but I'm going to guess along the lines of things aren't working out well with Ginny." Hermione stated, retrieving her book from the floor.

"Not in the slightest." He angrily muttered.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Ha! Right! Talk about it! With you of all people! Isn't that just peachy?" He roared.

Hermione's eyes narrowed and she hopped up from her chair. "Now you listen to me Harry Potter! I have done nothing to you, and I will not be treated this way. If that is how you want to act then you can just stuff it!" She huffed and stormed off toward the stairs.

"Hermione, wait! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lash out at _you._ It's just. Argh! I can't believe her! She honestly thinks there is something going on between us! And I tried to tell her differently, but do you think she listens? NO! Of course not! And then _he _has to make matters worse by bringing up things that never even happened. I'm done with the whole lot of them!"

Hermione stopped with her hand on the railing. She turned around. "What _are_ you talking about? And do you think you could take it down, I don't know, maybe a few decibels?"

"Alright. I'm sorry. Please come back and sit down."

Hermione walked back to her chair, and tucked her legs under her. "Okay. What's going on?"

"Well, we had the tryout for the team tonight. Ron's head really wasn't in it, and I made the decision to start McDonnell as keeper for the game against Ravenclaw on Saturday. When I voiced this, Ginny completely flew off the handle. She said that I was punishing Ron because things didn't work out between the two of you. And when I told her that the pair of you had nothing to do with my decision, she started on about us sharing a common room. That we are sneaking around under her nose. She said that I spend too much time with you alone. Which is ridiculous! I mean, you are one of my best friends. What am I suppose to do? Completely shun you because I have a girlfriend. So I told her just that, and well that didn't go over too nicely. Then Ron had to chime in with how we got so close when we were on our own there for a bit. He said that what Riddle's locket showed had to have some inkling of truth. Can you believe that? After all we've been through, and he still refuses to believe me. He told me to stay away from him and his sister. Mental. Completely mental."

"Wow. That's just, well, that's just ridiculous. Maybe if you just give them some time, they'll come to their senses. Don't worry about it now. There's nothing really you can do. I'm going to bed now. I'll see you in the morning." Hermione walked by, brushing a hand against his shoulder. "Goodnight, Harry."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: I woke up this morning, and to my utter disappointment I still wasn't J. K. Rowling. The last chapter really wasn't very eventful, but it kind of lays the back story for things to come. It'll get better, I promise….hopefully. Let me know what you think. Thanks, K.**

Two

The next day was filled with questioning glances, and conversations that ended abruptly when Harry or Hermione entered the room. Ginny and Ron provided an overwhelming amount of cold glares, and refused to share a table with the pair at breakfast. By lunchtime, the atmosphere was so uncomfortable that Hermione and Harry opted to eat in the solitude of their common room.

"This is getting completely out of hand," Hermione fumed. "We are hiding up here like we did something wrong!"

"I know, but what do you propose we do? Sit there and let them gawk at us?" Harry asked, prodding his half-eaten sandwich.

Hermione contemplated his suggestion momentarily. "Yes. That is exactly what we should do."

"What?"

"Well, think about it, Harry. They are all waiting for us to give them some sort of a show. Ginny and Ron are already fuming at us. Why not give them what they are asking for?"

"Are you mad? No offense Hermione, but I don't feel that way about you."

"I'm not saying I want to snog the face off you, but it'll put them in their place. They want something going on? Well, let's give it to them. Personally, I'm sick to death of all this childish behavior. If they want to be angry with us, let's give them something to be angry about!"

"You want to explain that a little more?"

"Okay, Harry. Listen. We hold hands in the corridors. Sit a little too close during class. Have secluded dinner conversations, and laugh just a little too loud. In other words, we do the things they are all expecting us to do. All the while, we really are just making fools of them."

"I don't know. Don't you think that would be a little counterproductive?"

"Nevermind then. It was just a suggestion. They are just driving me bonkers."

They finished their lunch in relative silence, then gathered their bags, and headed to class.

Their next class was Potions with Professor Slughorn. They navigated the halls with turned heads and half-hidden snickers following in their wake. When they turned the corner, they spotted Ron standing with the other seventh year Gryffindors.

"Great. Here comes the happy couple." Ron remarked loudly.

Harry heard a sigh escape Hermione, and felt her stiffen next to him. Instinctively, he reached over and grasped her hand. She gave him a questioning look, and he responded with a smile. The tension left her, and she smiled back at Harry. They walked past Ron without acknowledging him, and found their seats.

Professor Slughorn called the class to order and informed them that they would be reversing an unknown potion. Breaking it down to determine the ingredients included in the composition, and then correctly determining the potion with which they were working. The class was instructed to pair off and begin the assignment.

Harry obtained their potion and dumped it into the cauldron; while Hermione flipped through the potions manual. This was a complicated task, but she knew exactly which chapters would be most beneficial.

Glancing back to check the time piece on the back wall, Hermione caught Ron glaring at her. Turning back around, she smiled inwardly. Pretending to have found something of importance in the text, Hermione pointed to the book.

"Look at this Harry." She said excitedly. When Harry bent to look at the page, Hermione placed on his shoulder and leaned in close.

"He's been glaring at us the entire class," she whispered softly in his ear.

Harry chuckled, and pushed a loose strand of hair behind Hermione's ear. She gave him a warm smile.

A crash resonated off the stone walls. The whole class turned to see Ron heave his cauldron back onto the work space. Beside him, Neville stared wide-eyed at the hour worth of work that was now oozing into the cracks of the floor. Slughorn glided over with a new vial of potion and a warning to be more careful.

Harry and Hermione were the first to complete the assignment. Slughorn was so impressed with their work; he gave each ten points and a free pass from the day's homework assignment. As they left the room, they made sure to clasp hands before shutting the door on their still working classmates.

They laughed at their small win, and swung their clasped hands as they made their way back upstairs. So caught up in their laughter, the couple walked passed Ginny without even noticing her.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Over the following week, the two continued with their intentionally stolen touches and caresses. Ron and Ginny continued to glare and insult the pair, but the remainder of the student body eventually lost interest in the two. All but one, that is. Unaware to the "happy couple," a pair of steel grey eyes monitored their every exchange.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

It was late one evening. Harry sat in one of the arm chairs working on his transfiguration homework. Hermione, being the studious person she was, had already completed her homework the night before. Having cuddled down on the couch with a large book for "light" reading, she had quickly fallen asleep.

Hermione found herself in the all too familiar mist.

"Come to me, my darling. Come to me." She heard him call.

Once again she walked toward him as he promised her the world. Once more she reached out her hand to him. This time, however, she felt her hand slip easily into his.

"I'm coming for you soon, my love." He whispered in her ear.

Hermione woke with a start. The large volume she had been reading thundered to the floor. Harry looked up from his homework, taking in her startled face.

"Alright, 'Mione?"

Hermione pulled herself into a seated position, but didn't reply. She was analyzing the new advancement in her dream. She didn't register Harry until he moved in front of her, cupping her face in his hand.

"Is something wrong? Are you ill? Should I take you to the hospital wing?" Harry asked.

"No, it's alright. Just an odd dream." She brought her hand up and laid it on his.

"Are you sure?"

"Really, Harry. I'm fine." She patted his hand gently.

Chocolate eyes stared into green ones. She smiled at him. Slowly he leaned in and touched his lips to hers. Her hand slide down his arm and came to rest at the nape of his neck. His one hand remained on her face; the other found its way into the thick curls of her hair. She was the first to pull away.

"Harry, we shouldn't be doing this." She whispered inches from his mouth.

"I know." He replied, and pressed his lips to hers once again.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Another few weeks passed with the two acting their part, but in reality they weren't really acting anymore. They held hands as they walked to and from class. They were always paired up for in-class assignments. Each meal, they could be witnessed sitting off on their own, laughing and enjoying each other's company. They had not exchanged another kiss since that first night, and it was a topic they both avoided.

Hermione's dreams continued to plague her nightly. Each night it was to same. Each morning she woke up with his whisper still lingering in her ear. She never told anyone of these dreams. Normally, this would have been something she would have discussed with Ginny; however, Ginny refused to utter a single syllable to her. So they were hers alone. Her own private paradise, but she couldn't help wondering what they meant.

The first Saturday trip to Hogsmeade arrived in early October. Harry and Hermione held hands as they walked down the street, smiling and looking into shop windows. They were to meet Dean and Seamus at the Three Brooms Sticks for lunch, and then go shopping for Halloween costumes for the Halloween Ball. A new sign hanging over a once abandoned shop caught Hermione's attention.

BARLEY'S BOOKS AND BAUBLES

GRAND OPENING

PROMISES TO BEWITCH THE MIND OF ANY BOOKWORM

Hermione's eyes stared at the sign in longing. She turned to Harry.

"Do you mind if I pop in there for moment? I won't be long. I'll meet you at the Three Broomsticks in a bit." She asked.

Harry laughed. "Sure. I'll go meet up with Dean and Seamus so they don't think we ditched them. Don't take too long."

Harry's laughter caught the attention of two red-heads exiting the candy shop. Ginny rolled her eyes and made a comment to Ron. Feeling a bit mischievous, Hermione stretched up and gave Harry a peck on the lips. As she pulled away, she was treated with a view of Ron's beet red face and Ginny stalking off in the opposite direction. Smiling to herself, Hermione turned and entered the shop.

The shop was a large room with floor to ceiling bookshelves comprising the outer walls. The room was then divided by five towering bookcases that ran the length of the store. A wiry old man sat behind a small counter, thoroughly inspecting the page of an open book. His glasses hung precariously on his nose, while one hand stroked his beard in concentration. So engrossed in his book, the man didn't acknowledge Hermione's presence.

Hermione wandered down an aisle toward the back of the shop. She found a book that sparked her interest on the back wall and reached for it.

"Don't you think that's a bit of a dull subject?" A voice questioned behind her.

Hermione's eye opened wide in shock. She knew that voice, but how was it possible? Slowly, Hermione turned around to see a boy leaning against the end of the bookcase behind her.

His arms were crossed over his chest. His pitch black hair hung carelessly in his eyes, which were burning like green flames.

"It's you." She whispered without thinking.

"You know who I am?" He asked, surprise flooding his face.

"No. Not really." She stammered.

"Thomas Gaunt," he said, extending his hand to her.

She stepped forward intending to place her hand in his. His eyes bore into her. Seconds seemed to stretch out into minutes.

"Hermione?" Harry's voice called from the front of the shop, effective breaking her from her trance. She glanced down the aisle to see Harry striding towards her. She turned back to her companion, but he was gone.

"What have you been doing all this time?" Harry asked. "You missed lunch."

Shocked, Hermione consulted at her wristwatch. Indeed, an entire hour had passed without her knowing.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry. I must have lost track of time." She apologized, looking around her to see where Thomas had disappeared to so quickly.

"It's alright." Harry said, cupping her face in his hand. He leaned in and kissed her. He ran his hand through her hair, deepening the kiss. Moments later, Hermione found her back pressed against a shelf of books. One hand rested gently on his chest, while the other clutched at his back.

The pair was broken apart by the sound of a throat clearing behind them.

"This is not the type of behavior I permit in my establishment." The old man from behind the counter scolded.

"Sorry." Harry offered. He grabbed Hermione by the hand and pulled her out of the store. The two barely crossed the threshold before succumbing to their laughter. Hand in hand, they walked across the street to the costume shop.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

That night after dinner, Hermione sat in her chair by the fire. She thought over the events of the day. She had met the boy who plagued her dreams, Thomas Gaunt. His name sounded so familiar, and yet she still couldn't place it. Then, there was the fact that he had appeared so suddenly and then disappeared just as quickly. Hermione racked her brain for some explanation, but she couldn't find one. Eventually, she came to the conclusion that she had imagined the entire encounter.

Another thought playing heavily on her mind was the kiss with Harry. Both had stated numerous times that neither was attracted to the other; yet, that kiss hadn't seemed like it was nothing. Hermione glanced over at Harry in time to see him swiftly shift his gaze from her. _Perhaps there is something, _she thought. After all the pretending to be a couple over the past month or so, was it possible they had become a real couple?

Hermione sighed. She closed her book, and retreated to her room. Stretching out on her bed, she evaluated the pros and cons of a relationship with Harry. Before she could come to a conclusion, she drifted off into sleep.

"I don't like it when he touches you." The voice said behind her. "You are mine, darling."

Hermione felt a hand brush through her hair. She turned around to look up into those green eyes.

"I'm coming for you soon, my love." He said as he tilted her face up to meet his.

Hermione's eyes popped open. She could still feel the pressure of his lips on her own. She sat up on her bed, pulling her knees in to her chest.

What was happening to her? Was she losing her mind?

A knock sounded from the door. "Hermione? You awake?" Harry called from the other side. "Professor McGonagall is here to discuss the plans for the ball."

Hermione slipped off the bed and made her way down to speak to the professor. Efficiently, pushing her worries aside for the moment.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: To my complete surprise, I'm still not J. K. Rowling. I am but a sad little college student wrapped up in a world of fantasy with no income. *sigh* If you are still reading this, seeing as it is chapter 3, I must not be doing too badly of a job. Oddly enough, I have already written the ending for this story. So now, I just have to figure out exactly how I am going to get from here to there. Should prove to be interesting! As always, let me know what you think. Thanks, K.**

Three

The two weeks leading up to the Halloween Ball were filled with planning and decorating. Harry and Hermione spent late nights in their common room discussing the intricate details of the coming dance. Harry had succeeded in booking The Wand Ravers, an all witch soft rock band, for the entertainment. The refreshments were brewed, and their costumes had been purchased.

The night of the Ball seemed to have arrived rather quickly. Hermione sat with her back against the head of her bed. Her knees were drawn up to her chin, and her arms were wrapped around her legs. She was once again lost in thought about a certain mysterious boy.

_Gaunt._ She thought. There was only one other person she knew of who was connected to that very name. Voldemort. But that wasn't possible. Voldemort was dead, and he was never coming back.

_What am I thinking? _Hermione shook her head. Of course Voldemort's relatives couldn't be the only Gaunts to exist. Surnames are often shared by people from all different backgrounds.

With one last shake of her head, Hermione got up and started to prepare for the Ball. She pulled a bright blue ball gown from her closet. The top was form fitting and laced up the back with a pale satin ribbon. Small crystals adorned the sweetheart neckline. The skirt was floor length and full. More crystals decorated the bottom hem, and some were scattered at random intervals over the entirety of the skirt. She folded her hair up into an intricate bun with soft curls framing her face. Finally, Hermione placed her mask on her face. The mask was silver with iridescent swirls that seemed to dance when the light caught them. With all the embellishments on her gown and mask, she decided against wearing any jewelry.

The Halloween Ball at Hogwarts was different than Halloween dances in the muggle world. Seeing as it would be a tad redundant for a witch to dress up as a witch for Halloween, costumes in the wizarding world were mostly comprised of formal attire and masks.

Checking her reflection one last time to be sure her mask was straight, Hermione went down to the common room where Harry was waiting.

After several exchanged complements, the couple headed down to the Great Hall. The four long house tables had been removed, and several smaller round tables had been placed near the entrance. The table cloths were white with black and orange runners. Cheerful jack-o-lanterns served as center pieces. Overhead, the ceiling was enchanted to look like a clear evening sky. Stars twinkled on a pitch black background. White candle suspended in midair provided an intimate atmosphere. On the platform that normally housed the professors' table, The Wand Ravers were playing a slow song.

Harry led Hermione out onto the dance floor. Dancing was not one of Harry's most esteemed talents, but he seemed to manage rather well. After a few songs, they decided to sit for a while at one of the table.

"Hello, Harry." said a dreamy voice a while later. "Would you care to dance with me?"

The two looked at the girl standing behind them. She was somewhat short with pale blonde hair falling in long waves down her back. Even with her mask in place, there was no mistaking Luna Lovegood. Purple radishes dangled from her ears, dyed perfectly to match her puffy purple dress.

Harry's eyes sought out Hermione in a silent plea for help.

"Hello, Luna." Hermione greeted the Ravenclaw. "Harry would love to dance with you."

Harry reluctantly left his date, and offered his arm to Luna. Hermione giggled silently to herself as she watched Luna lead Harry into a very peculiar dance.

"Might I have this dance?" asked a man wearing a green mask. He held his hand out to her. Feeling spontaneous, Hermione accepted.

Her new dance partner was a very good dancer. His pale grey eyes examined her with open curiosity. He swept her across the dance floor and toward the corner on the opposite side of the room.

"There is someone here who has been waiting to dance with you all evening." He whispered in her ear, as he spun her into the waiting arms of another dancer.

The arms that caught her were strong. He was a very graceful dancer and glided along without much effort. Her latest partner was tall and lean. He was dressed in all black. The only bit of color was the emerald shade of his eyes that drank her in from behind his solid black mask. He remained silent throughout the entire song, expertly bending and swaying her to the music. As the song came to an end, he spun her around so that her back was against his chest. She felt his hand graze the back of her neck.

"You look beautiful tonight, my darling." He said softly in her ear.

"Thomas?" Her heart fluttered. She turned around, but he was gone.

Hermione walked back to the table she had been sitting at with Harry. He had managed to escape from Luna and was now talking with Neville. Hermione settled into her seat, and pondered the last few minutes.

Was it possible that Thomas was a student at Hogwarts? Hermione thought that she knew all of the students, but how else would it be possible for him to make an appearance at the Ball?

The rest of the night seemed to drag on, and Hermione caught herself scanning the crowd for the tall man dressed in black.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Later that night, after she returned to her room, she took another look at herself in the mirror before getting ready for bed. Her eyes were drawn to a glimmer of green in the reflection. Around her neck, there now hung a small tear-shaped emerald on a white-gold chain. Hermione clutched the necklace in her hand. She hadn't even noticed she was wearing it. Her mind replayed the scene from earlier. As if he were there, she could feel his hand on the nape of her neck. How had he managed it without her knowing?

That very question nagged at her mind, as she climbed into bed a few minutes later.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: No matter how much I may wish it, I will never be J. K. Rowling. I'm just a silly little girl who likes to pretend she's Hermione. I have two finals tomorrow, so of course that means I'm going to update my story! This chapter is short, but I do need my sleep. Plus, it just seemed like a wicked place to stop. Enjoy. As always, your input is always appreciated. Thanks, K.**

Four

With end of fall term exams quickly approaching, Hermione and Harry barricaded themselves in their common room. Hermione sat on the floor near the fireplace, books and parchment scattered about her. Harry lounged in an armchair to her right, studying his transfiguration notes.

"What are you going to do for holiday break?" Hermione asked. Previously, Harry had planned to spend the holidays with the Weasleys; but as neither Ginny nor Ron were currently talking to the two, that option didn't seem plausible anymore.

"Oh, well I'll probably just spend it here." Harry stated. It was obvious from his tone that he hadn't thought about the idea at all.

"Oh." Hermione paused. "You know, Harry, you could always come to my house. Mum and Dad would love to have you."

"I don't want to intrude. I know how important spending time with your parents is to you. I'll be fine here."

"Really, it's no problem. Besides, what kind of a girlfriend would I be if I let you spend Christmas alone?" The question left her mouth before she had really thought it through. Had she really just called herself his girlfriend? They hadn't actually talked about their current status.

Harry didn't say anything for a moment. He sat up in his chair slowly and looked at her. He noticed the blush spread across her face as she rifled through the pages scattered on the floor, trying to make herself look busy. Harry crept down onto the floor, and lifted her chin with his finger. He kissed her gently.

"I'd love to spend Christmas with my girlfriend." He whispered.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

By Friday, the students of Hogwarts were relieved to find the fall exams behind them. Hermione felt the exams had gone rather well; Harry just hoped he passed. The Great Hall was filled with students for a last feast before heading home in the morning. Neville was talking about the horrible party his grandmother hosted every year.

"So what are your plans, Harry?" Seamus interjected, tired of hearing Neville's yearly rant.

"Hermione and I are going to going to her parents'." Harry said.

"Awe, how sweet. The mudblood is taking Potter home to meet her parents. Better be sure you have your shots, Potter. You wouldn't want to catch anything." Draco Malfoy sneered as he passed behind them.

"Don't call her that, Malfoy." Harry threatened, standing up from his seat. "Remarks like that could land you in Azkaban with the other death eaters, now that your _master_ isn't around to protect you."

"I'm not the one who needs protection." Malfoy glanced at Hermione. "Nice necklace, Granger. I guess Potter can afford better trinkets than Weasley ever could. That stone probably cost more than their family's house."

Before anyone could stop her, Hermione was out of her seat and lunging at Malfoy. One hand gripped his pale hair; the other collided with his abdomen. "You will not speak about them that way. They are good people! Obviously, money can't buy you manners or a decent personality." That being said, she brought her knee up sharply, then turned and stalked away. Harry followed close behind her.

Draco fell to the floor clutching at himself; his face contorted in pain. When he was finally able to get his breathing under control, he muttered to himself. "Bitch. I don't know what he has in store for you, but you _will_ pay."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Hermione stormed into the common room still fuming. Harry caught her arms, turned her around, and kissed her.

"That was brilliant! Malfoy never saw it coming." Harry laughed.

"I shouldn't have done that. Violence never solves anything." Hermione muttered. "He just makes me so mad!"

Harry stared at her for a moment. His eyes dropped down to the emerald hanging from her neck. He had noticed it a few weeks ago but had never mentioned it. He for certain hadn't given it to her.

Seeing the question in his eyes, Hermione opened her mouth to speak. Before she could say anything, they were interrupted by a knock at the portrait hole. They exchanged curious glances. Hermione was suddenly filled with dread. What if it was Professor McGonagall? Fighting was not appropriate behavior for the Head Girl. Would she be expelled?

Sensing her worry, Harry opened the portrait. Standing just outside was Ron. By the look on his face, Harry could tell he wasn't there to start an argument; so he stepped aside to allow Ron to enter.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Hermione inquired when she realized he wasn't Professor McGonagall.

"I came to apologize, and to tell you that you're amazing! I've never seen Malfoy so scared in all his life! I'm really sorry. Lately I've been acting…" Ron trailed off, running a hand through his hair and looking about the room.

"Like a complete git?" Harry finished for him.

"Yeah, well, you know. You two seem to be happy though."

"You and Ginny only have yourself to blame for that." Hermione added.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked.

Harry and Hermione explained their devious plan that had backfired. They told him about pretending to have feelings for each other, and then having those feelings become real.

"Well doesn't that just beat all?" Ron laughed. And just like that, the trio was friends again.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Early Saturday afternoon, the train rolled into King's Crossing. Excited for a month long break, the students enthusiastically offloaded their cargo. While Harry and Ron walked down the platform to talk to Dean and Seamus, Hermione loaded her trunk onto a dolly.

"The necklace looks lovely on you," a voice commented.

Hermione looked up in shock. She had been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed anyone approach her.

"Thank you." She said, smiling at the tall, black haired man. "A stranger gave it to me at a party."

"Now Hermione, I don't think we can be considered strangers." He gave her a flawless white smile.

On the other side of the platform, Harry noticed Malfoy transfixed on something at the opposite end. Harry followed Malfoy's steel grey gaze to Hermione talking to a dark hair man with his back to him. The man turned slightly, and Harry caught a glimpse of his profile. Malfoy smirked when he saw that Harry was also witnessing the exchange at the far end of the platform. In a split second, Harry was dashing through the crowd at top speed.

"Hermione! No! That's…" But he was too late. The man had already taken hold of the girl's arm and apparated them away. Enraged, Harry turned to confront Malfoy, only to find that he was gone as well.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Still not JKR. Haha! I love cliffhangers. Wouldn't it be a cruel joke to make you wait until after my finals are over to update? I thought so, but since I'm such a nice, loving person I decided to update already. And to add a little heat in honor of this cold weather we are experiencing here, I decided to throw a little bit of smut in. Sorry if that's not your thing, but this is rated M for a reason. Anyway, I need to take a moment to explain a few things about the inner-workings of my mind so that the story will make a bit more sense to you. In my mind, the Malfoys remain loyal to the Dark Lord. Since their previous involvement with him has tainted the family name in the eyes of the rest of the wizarding world, they believe that the only way to regain respect it to once again try to bring the Dark Lord back to power. My Draco Malfoy is not quite as wimpy as he was portrayed in the books, and wants to prove himself as a "brave" deatheater. Like I stated before, the deaths of Bellatrix and Snape are going to be disregarded. If it makes you feel better, we'll say that Snape was not killed by Nagini. He was just severely injured. As for Bellatrix, Molly merely stunned her. She was sent to Azkaban with other captured deatheaters, and once again has been broken out of the prison by unknown deatheaters. Hopefully that helps. As always, your input is much appreciated. Thanks, K.**

Five

Hermione and Thomas were squeezed through space. They found themselves on a gravel drive in front of a large manor house. Seconds after their feet touched the ground Hermione let out a blood curdling scream and fainted. Thomas caught her just inches before she collided with the ground. He noticed her skin was pale and clammy as he lowered her to the ground. A quick survey revealed copious amounts of blood soaking into her jeans. Her left thigh was missing a golf ball-sized chunk of flesh. Cursing under his breath, Thomas hefted her back into his arms and carried her into the house.

Depositing her on a sofa in the front parlor, he waved his wand to remove her clothing to allow him to fully inspect her injuries. It was evident that she had been splinched when he had suddenly forced her to apparate. He had planned to convince her to come willingly, but Potter had spotted him before he could implement his plan. Acting instinctively to avoid exposure, he had grabbed the girl before she could notice Potter pushing his way through the crowd.

The splinching had nicked a hole in her femoral artery, and she was quickly bleeding out. Thomas waved his wand over the wound to repair the damaged vessel. He summoned a vial of Essence of Dittany from the lavatory in the hall. After pouring three drops in to lesion, Thomas watched as the missing flesh started to repair itself.

Not wanting to jostle her too much in her condition, Thomas levitated her to a bedroom upstairs. He placed her on a king-sized bed, and covered her gently with a blanket.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Hours later Hermione awoke to find Thomas observing her from a chair not far from the bed. Noticing she was awake, he fetched a vial of potion that had been waiting on the bedside table. He brought the vial to her lips, but she gave him a questioning look.

"Blood Replenishing Potion," he said. "You were splinched and lost a lot of blood."

Hermione nodded weakly. He supported her head in his hand and tipped the contents of the vial into her mouth. Hermione swallowed the metallic-tasting liquid and closed her eyes. She was in and out of consciousness for the following two days. Each time she awoke, Thomas was waiting with another vial of the potion.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

On the third day after her injury, Hermione awoke alone. She was feeling much better. Her strength had returned, and she was finally able to take in her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was that she was in a large bedroom decorated in shades of green. The furniture was antique but had been freshly refinished and polished to a shine. The bed in which she rested was a large four poster with pale green satin sheets and a warm emerald duvet. On the wall farthest from the bed, sheer green curtains floated softly in the breeze, entering through the open French doors that led out onto a balcony.

Hermione shifted in the bed preparing to get up. The next thing she noticed was that she was completely naked. She looked around the room again to ascertain that she was alone. Her eyes fixed on the armoire on the wall across from the foot of the bed. She gingerly crept from the bed and crossed the room. Inside the armoire, she found a black silk dressing robe. Quickly, she tied it around her. The other clothes she found were all exquisite gowns in black and varying shades of green. Having found nothing else to put on, she closed the cabinet doors.

Curious about her location, Hermione walked out onto the balcony. She stared down at a large estate that overlooked a small town in the distance. She deduced that she was at least three stories up in a very grand manor. Her investigation was broken when someone spoke behind her.

"You're awake." Thomas observed. He was leaning against the railing at the end of the balcony.

"Yes, I am. How long have I been out?" Hermione asked. She had been so tired that she hadn't registered the end of one day and the beginning of the next.

"Three." He answered as he pushed himself away from the railing to walk toward her.

"Where are we?"

"This was my father's estate"

"Was?"

"He's dead now." His tone implied that it was of no great consequence.

"What are we doing here?" Hermione asked. By this time, he has standing in front of her. Ignoring her last question, he kissed her.

When the kiss broke, Hermione found herself pinned against the wall of the house. One of Thomas's hands was buried in her hair, the other rested gently on her side.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, staring into her eyes.

"I'm feeling much better. Thank you. But I don't understand. How did I become splinched in the first place?"

Again when she asked a question he kissed her. This kiss was much more passionate than the previous one. Her hands, which had been resting on his chest, curled around the collar of his shirt. He slid his hand down her side and brought her leg up around his hip. His lips left her mouth and travelled down the side of her neck. He felt her stifle a moan.

Capturing her lips again, he lifted her so that both of her legs encircled his waist. He carried her back into the room and placed her on the bed, positioning himself slightly to her side. He untied the robe's belt without breaking the kiss. He moved his lips to the base of her throat, and a small moan escaped her. His right hand skimmed down her side and came to rest between her legs. Softly, he began to caress her nub.

"Tom. I…"

"Shh." He whispered. "I'll be gentle, my pet."

He dipped a finger down between her folds. She gave a small gasp, and he recaptured her lips with his own. He continued gently stroking her clit, feeling her withering beneath him. He brought his mouth to her breast and teased her nipple with his tongue, as he slowing sank a finger deep into her wetness. Hermione moaned as his finger glided in and out of her opening. The pressure continued to build, and she could feel herself teetering on the edge. Just as she was about to fall over the edge, he removed his finger.

Hermione opened her eyes to protest in time to see him lay his wand on the bedside table. He positioned himself on top of her, and she realized their clothes had vanished. He kissed her again as he situated himself at her entrance. He pushed into her, and Hermione let out a whimper of pain. He paused momentarily to allow her tight passage to adjust to his more than adequate size. Gently, he started to withdraw himself before slowly sinking back into her. He slipped his hand between them, and continued to stroke her nub as he pulsated in her canal. Again, Hermione felt the pressure buildup within her. Soon enough, she found herself teetering on the precipice of pleasure once again. This time, however, he allowed the pleasure to grow. As she began to fall over the edge, he bit down softly where her shoulder and neck met. A hoarse moan issued from Hermione. Her already tight muscles contracted in a painfully pleasant manner around his member. He gave a deep moan as he emptied his contents deep within her.

He kissed her lips lightly, before moving to lie beside her. Both lay silently for a moment to catch their breath. The silence was interrupted by a knock at the door. Before either could move, the door opened to reveal a woman with long, curly black hair.

"My Lord," she said excitedly. "Your guest has arrived."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Unfortunately, I am not a famous writer like the wonderful JKR. I know you all hate them, but did I mention that I love cliffhangers? Cause I really do! We're getting closer to finding out how Voldemort is alive and what his plans are for Hermione! Are you excited? I know I am! As always, I love to read your input. Thanks, K**

Six

Hermione shrieked, jumped up from the bed, and pulled the sheet around her. As fast as she moved, Voldemort was faster. He was standing on the opposite side of the bed wand in his hand. He was glaring at Bellatrix LeStrange, who finally seemed to have understood her error. As Bellatrix tried to back out of the room, Voldemort bellowed "Crucio!"

Bellatrix fell to the ground screaming in pain. He held the curse for a solid minute before finally releasing his hold on the dark haired woman.

"Leave now." He ordered. "I do not wish to be disturbed again."

Bellatrix scrambled up from the floor and pulled the door closed behind her. Voldemort turned around to the fearful girl inching her way toward the open French doors. With a flick of his wand, the doors snapped shut behind her. It was at that moment Hermione realized she didn't have a wand.

Voldemort took a step towards her, and she countered by taking a step back. This continued until Hermione had taken her last step, bringing her back in contact with the cold stone of the wall. Panicking, Hermione decided to get to the point.

"What do you want?" She asked fearfully.

An evil smirk crossed his face as he continued to stalk towards her. She was visibly shaking as he drew near her. She squeezed her eyes closed in anticipation of the curse she was sure that would strike her any moment. When nothing happened, she opened her eyes again. His hand with his wand was resting against the wall just beside her head. His other hand was perched on his naked hip. He stared into her eyes, still smirking.

"W-what do you want?" She asked again.

"Now, now, Hermione. Is that anyway to talk to the man who just brought you the most pleasure you've ever experience?" He chided, bringing his hand up to caress her cheek.

Hermione flinched at the contact. She felt physically sick that she had allowed him to touch her. Silent tears slid down her cheeks. How could she have been so foolish?

"Please…" She whispered.

The hand that had been caressing her cheek gripped the back of her head roughly. He brought his lips down savagely on hers, pressing himself against her. Then, he released her and walked back towards the opposite side of the room. Hermione didn't move. With a flick of his wand, his clothes reappeared. Placing his hand on the door knob, he turned to look back at her.

"I have important business to attend to. Don't go anywhere, my dear." He threatened with a laugh. He opened the door and left.

When the door clicked shut, Hermione was able to move again. Quickly, she crossed the room and tried the door handle. It wouldn't budge. She tried the same procedure on the French doors, but they too held fast. A third door dead-ended in a large bathroom. Returning to the main room, Hermione collapsed on the bed in tears. She was trapped.

After a few moments of weakness, Hermione drug herself from the bed to examine the room. After twenty minutes of searching, she succumbed to the fact that the room was free of objects she could use as weapons. Her search did, however, provide her with a t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants that her earlier exploration had overlooked. Relieved to have a form of clothing, Hermione settled herself in an armchair that was positioned near the fireplace. She watched the flames and tried to analyze the series of events that had led up to that very moment.

After what seemed like hours, a house elf appeared with a try of food. The little elf placed the tray on the coffee table, bowed, and left without a word. Hermione tried to ignore the food, but three days without nourishment was beginning to take its toll. Grudgingly, she picked at the meal. Beside the tray was an issue of the _Daily Prophet_. Hermione unfolded the paper. Her own picture stared back at her from under the headline "Still No Sign of Young War Heroine."

The bit of food she had managed to consume churned in her stomach. Hermione was able to make it to the bathroom before becoming violently sick in the toilet. She wiped her mouth and started to stand up. She heard a light _tink_. To her surprise, the noise was produced by the emerald necklace hitting the porcelain bowl when she moved. Determined to get rid of it, she searched the chain for a clasp but couldn't find one. Overcome by a wave of rage, Hermione gripped the necklace and tried to rip it from her neck. The chain refused to break.

"It won't come off." Voldemort said from behind her.

"What is it? Why did you put this on me?" She demanded.

"It's a present. Most people would say thank you." He replied.

"I already thanked you. That was before you took me prisoner." All her earlier fear had vanished, and she was left with anger.

"Prisoner seems a bit extreme, don't you think? Prisoner insinuates the use of chains and torture. I'd like to look at it more as an extended house guest. That seems less sinister."

"Sinister? You tricked me into having sex with you! You're keeping me here against my will! That's called kidnapping!" She yelled.

"I wouldn't call this kidnapping. You are hardly a kid anymore, Hermione." He seemed to be enjoying their childish banter.

Fuming, Hermione asked again, "What is it you want from me?"

He grinned in response to her question.

"Are you kidding me? Surely you wouldn't put all this effort into a shag. What is it you want?" She demanded again.

Before she could register his movement, he advanced on her. He pushed her forcefully into the wall. He leaned with his left arm on the wall above her head. His right hand was wrapped around her throat firmly.

"Don't worry, my pet. You will find out my plan for you in a few days." He brought his lips down hard on hers. Then he released her and left the bathroom.

Hermione massaged her neck. He hadn't really applied pressure, but it had been an unpleasant experience none the less. She took a deep breath and returned to the bedroom. She had assumed he would be waiting for her, but she found that she was once again alone.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Hermione tried to stay awake incase he decided to return, but when he hadn't returned by midnight, she fell asleep curled up in the armchair.

When she awoke the next morning, she was surprised to find herself in the bed. A soft rustle of fabric alerted her to the fact that she wasn't alone. Through her eyelashes, she could see Voldemort lounging in the armchair. Hoping that if she ignored him he would leave, she pretended to still be sleeping.

After a moment he said, "I know you're awake."

She scowled at him and sat up. She went to the bathroom and shut the door. After performing her morning bathroom ritual, she stepped back into the bedroom.

"I was hoping you would leave." She stated rudely.

"Not likely." He said with an amused chuckle.

She sat down in the armchair opposite him. "Are you going to tell me what you want yet?"

"I've got what I want." He said playfully.

"Hardly. I refuse to believe you are at all interested in a muggle-born. Do you think I'm going to help you get to Harry? Is that what this is all about? Because I won't do it."

"Harry Potter is not of great concern to me at the moment."

"Then what is?"

"Why, you of course."

Hermione snorted. "Oh yes, I forgot that you were an advocate for muggle-borns!"

"All this talk about muggle-borns, it's quite boring."

"Well I am one."

Voldemort fixed her with another grin. "But that is where you are wrong, my dear. You most certainly are _not_ a muggle-born."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Not JKR. Not a famous writer. Not even close. Just a forewarning, I probably won't be able to update as quickly as I would like for the next week or so. I will be moving starting tomorrow, well, I guess technically today considering the time. Therefore, I will be rather busy with the whole packing and unpacking process; as well as, I will be without internet for a few days. That is a terrifying thought! Just bear with me, I promise I will return. As always, I enjoy reading your input and encouragement. It lets me know that you like what I am doing and it makes me want to write more and more! Thanks, K.**

Seven

Hermione stared at him for a whole minute before she could respond.

"What kind of game are you playing at?" She asked indignantly.

"I'm not playing any games."

"Well, then what _are_ you on about?"

"I was simply stating the truth. You, Hermione, are not a muggle-born."

"I would think I would know who I am." She stated. "I know who my parents are."

He smiled again. "You only know what they meant for you to know."

"Well, if you claim to know all, then why don't you enlighten me?" She snapped.

"All will be revealed in time, my dear." He replied with a smirk. He then rose from his chair and made his way to the door. "Have a good day."

"What? You're seriously going to just leave me here?" Hermione accused, jumping up from her chair and turning to face him.

He quickly crossed the room and stopped inches from her. She could feel the heat from his body soak into her. His left arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her roughly against him. He jerked her chin up with his right hand, so he could stare down into her eyes.

"Unless you have a better offer?" He inquired, raising his eyebrow. His eyes searched her face finding only disgust and confusion. "No? Then I'll see you tonight."

With that, he released her and left without another word.

Hermione dropped back into the chair she had just vacated. What the hell was going on? He was teasing her. Joking with her. He was almost…friendly? No, that wasn't possible. He was the Dark Lord. He was manipulating her. Trying to get her to let her guard down, that was all. And what was this about her not being a muggle-born? It was completely ridiculous.

About half an hour later, the same house elf as the day before arrived with a breakfast tray. Once again, the elf deposited the tray on the table and left without a word. Besides food, the tray also held a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ and a book. Hermione set the newspaper aside and reached for the book. It was black leather with gold script scrawled along the binding. _The Darkest of Arts_,she read. Appalled by the title, she placed the book on the table and ignored it. She grabbed the newspaper and settled herself down in the chair with a piece of toast.

Scanning the first few pages, she found little that interested her. On page six, however, she was shocked to see her own picture staring back at her.

**Hermione Granger—Heroine or Hero Deserter?**

by Rita Skeeter

It has been almost a week now since the disappearance of one Hermione Jean Granger. With no word from the girl or any evidence of a struggle, one can only assume that Miss Granger has abandoned her current life in the hopes of procuring a new, more exciting one. It is well-known that Granger thrived on the attention allotted to her for her involvement in the Final Battle against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. As the hype over the previous year's struggles has dwindled, witnesses say that Miss Granger has made several attempts to keep the public eye fixed upon her.

Her most recent attempt has involved the seduction of The-Boy-Who-Lived. Several students from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have confirmed that Granger schemed and plotted against her own best friend, Miss Ginevra Weasley, who had been dating Harry Potter for two years. Using the war as a way to strengthen the odd bond of friendship she had developed with Potter, Granger succeeded in tearing the couple apart.

Keeping in mind that Granger excels in academics, one must wonder if Potter's new found attachment to the rather plain witch could be the result of a strong love potion. Harry Potter, who at the mere age of seventeen was able to single-handedly defeat the most terrifying dark wizard of the century, has been witnessed mourning the loss of Granger. Sources close to the boy say that he was rather disturbed when Granger abandoned him at King's Crossing earlier this week. One witness said, "It's unhealthy the hold she seems to have on him. He was screaming her name and blaming You-Know-Who for her leaving. It was just unnatural." As we know, Potter's mind is already fragile from the many obstacles that life has thrown his way. It is highly possible that Granger's actions may cause irreparable damage to our courageous young hero.

The article continued on for several more paragraphs, but Hermione could not bring herself to read any more. Wadding the paper into a tight ball, she threw it with all her might at the door.

"That vile, detestable, disgusting, evil excuse of a woman!" She yelled to herself. "If I ever get out of here, I'll strangle her with my own hands!"

"Wouldn't that be a sight to see," Voldemort said closing the door behind him. "I take it that you've read the paper?"

"Why are you here? I'm really not in the mood for more of your enigmatic monstrosities that you try to pass off as normal conversation! Just leave me alone!"

"Perhaps you have forgotten with whom you are talking." His voice was cold and angry.

"Fat chance of that happening! You never leave me alone long enough. You said you wouldn't be back until night. It can only have been a couple of hours since you left. Why are you gracing me with your presence so soon?"

"Oddly enough, I don't have to answer to you." He replied. With a flick of his wand, she was thrown into the chair and gagged with a handkerchief. "Now that you have quieted down, I can tell you that you will be getting the answers to your earlier questions sooner than originally planned. I have decided to move the ritual up to tonight."

Hermione glared up at him. Confusion was written all across her face.

Voldemort stood behind her, absentmindedly stroking her face. "If you can behavior yourself, I'll remove the gag. Do you think you can do that?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed, but she nodded her head. He swiftly pulled the handkerchief from her mouth, and circled around so he was in front of her.

"What ritual?" She asked.

"You will find that out in a few hours."

"Are you going to kill me?"

"I have no intention of killing you, Hermione." And for some strange reason, she believed him.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror. Her long brown hair had been twisted up into an intricate bun, held in place by emerald encrusted combs. The Dark Lord had handpicked her attire for the evening. The gown she now wore was floor length and form fitting. There was a slit up the right side of the silky green material that stopped mid-thigh. Her back was completely exposed, covered only by thin crisscrossing ribbons. On her feet, she had a pair of silver spike-heels with large emeralds that rested just above her toes.

"You look ravishing." He purred in her ear.

"What kind of ritual requires formal attire?" She asked, struggling to keep her temper in check.

"You'll see in a few minutes." He said with an evil grin. He took her arm and led her out the door.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Blah blah blah, all that normal disclaimer bs. AHH! Ok, finally, finally, finally! I'm back! Did you miss me? I've moved into my new place, the holidays are over with, and I've finally gotten the internet hooked up! Now, let's get down to business. Thank you for those who have reviewed and/or emailed me helpful ideas. It always makes me so happy when I see them show up in my inbox. Thanks, K.**

Eight

Voldemort led Hermione down a long set of stairs, through winding corridors, and stopped in front of a closed pair of large double oak doors.

"You will mind your temper tonight, my dear, or the consequences will not be to your liking." He whispered in her ear.

Hermione stared blankly up at him.

"Smile, darling. This is a very important night. You'll want to remember it for the rest of your life." With that, he opened the doors before them.

The room fell silent as the couple entered. Hermione flinched; every death eater imaginable seemed to be present. Voldemort guided her into the center of the room. The room was a large ballroom with high ceilings and golden chandeliers. Hermione's heels made loud clicking noises against the smooth marble floor.

When she was confident that she was not going to be attacked, Hermione looked around at the other occupants of the room. They were all in formal dress. Hermione also noticed that they had formed a large circle around Voldemort and herself.

"Let us begin." Voldemort said, giving Hermione a smile of pure evil.

The crowd parted and a small, withered old man was helped forward. His long, steel grey hair was plaited into a thick braid that fell to his waist. Deep wrinkles surrounded his hazy, unseeing eyes. His emaciated frame appeared too heavy for him, and his weight was supported by a large wooden staff and the arm of a thoroughly displeased Severus Snape. Snape deposited his charge before Voldemort, and then swiftly melted back into the crowd.

"I will touch your face," said a voice that was surprisingly loud and strong for its owner.

Voldemort gestured for her to comply with the older man's wish. To compensate for the man's short height and slumped posture, Hermione knelt before him and gingerly guided his hand to her face. As soon as the man's fingers made contact with her face, his eyes filled with tears.

"My sweet child. Such a strong, loving, brave heart. So much power. So much life. You look so much like your mother. Do not be frightened, Princess. You need to listen to your power. It will lead you to greatness." The old man said while caressing her face.

Hermione felt Voldemort kneel at her side. The old man's unseeing gaze turned to him.

"It is time." The old man said. He withdrew a small golden dagger from the pocket of his robe and offered it to Voldemort. "You know what to do."

Voldemort took the dagger and turned to face Hermione. Her terrified eyes fruitlessly searched for answers in his face. He touched her cheek with his left palm.

"Relax." He said, before pulling his hand away.

Hermione gasped as he sliced his palm open with the blade. Before she had time to react, he grasped her left wrist tightly and pulled the blade across her palm as well. He clasped their hands together, sealing the blood between their palms. Voldemort placed the dagger back into the waiting hand of the old man.

"Tom Riddle, let the blood of my blood enter and heal you. Let her strength and purity grow in your veins. Let her power consume your heart. Hermione Granger, let the blood of darkness bleed into you. Let your souls entwine. Let the power of your ancestors rule your heart. Allow your destiny to be your reality." The old man said, holding the dagger above their heads.

Hermione tried to pull her hand from Voldemort's, but his grip was too strong. Tears streamed down her face.

"No!" She screamed. "Let go of me! Please! Let go!"

"Hush, now." The old man whispered. "This is for your own good, Princess."

The old man touched the tip of the dagger to the couple's entwined hands and began chanting in a strange language. Silver and gold ribbons of smoke issued from the dagger and wrapped around their clasped hands. Hermione felt something warm on her chest. She looked down to see the emerald of her necklace glow. A jet of green light emitted from the stone and joined the silver and gold smoke. After several minutes of chanting, the smoke and light condensed into a hazy, glowing sphere encasing their hands. The old man said a few final words and the sphere disappeared.

"Tom Riddle, you may now kiss your bride." The old man said as he replaced the dagger in his pocket.

Voldemort released Hermione's hand. He took her face in both hands and kissed her forcefully. He smirked at her as he rose to his feet, pulling her up with him.

The death eaters stared at the newlyweds, unsure of how to react.

"You will bow to your Queen." Voldemort commanded. As one, the crowd bowed before the pair.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Not J. K. Rowling. :( Sorry it's taken me so long to update. My classes are killing me, and it's only the first week back! As always, your feedback is much appreciated. Thanks, K.**

Nine

Hermione wrenched her arm from Voldemort's grasp and fled from the room. Tears blurred her vision as she stumbled her way down the long, empty corridors. After running for what seemed like hours, Hermione found a door that exited to the front garden. As her foot was about to cross the threshold, a hand closed around her upper arm and jerked her back.

"Running out on me already?" Voldemort said in her ear, kicking the door shut with his foot.

"You bastard! Why did you do this to me? What have you gained from this other than my utter humiliation?" Hermione screamed in his face, her fists coming into contact with his chest.

Voldemort caught her wrists and pinned her against the door. He loomed over her, staring down at her with unreadable eyes.

"Let go of me." Hermione said, trying to pull her wrists from his hold.

Voldemort smirked down at her.

"No." He said simply.

After a few more moments of intense stares, Voldemort stepped back without loosening his grasp on her arm. He escorted her back upstairs to their room.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

When the door closed behind him, Voldemort released Hermione. She stormed across the room and leaned against the far wall, kicking her heels off in front of her.

"Ready for bed, darling?" He asked mockingly.

"Shut up, you disgusting slime!" She yelled. "Why are you doing this?"

"That's a bit contradicting, don't you think?" Another smirk.

Voldemort ducked as a silver spike heel sailed across the room at his head.

"Go to hell, you despicable waste of oxygen!" Hermione screamed, chucking the second shoe at him. "What's your plan?"

Dodging the second heel, Voldemort swiftly crossed the room. His hand wrapped around her throat, knocking her head against the wall. He took a deep breath and loosened his grip.

"This wasn't my plan." He said through clenched teeth. "The old man came to me."

"What?"

"The old man. Your grandfather. _He _found _me_."

"My what?" Hermione's voice shot up an octave.

"Your grandfather."

"No. This is just another one of your tricks. That man is not my grandfather. My grandfather died before I was born. My grandfather was a dentist like my parents. He was most certainly not a wizard or whatever that man is." Hermione rambled on. "And hypothetically speaking, let's say for a fraction of a second I checked out of my sanity for just a bit and believed you. Why would my grandfather seek you out and want you to force me into this ridiculous charade of marriage?"

"You want answers? Fine. You'll get your answers." He grabbed her arm roughly and drug her from the room.

Voldemort stormed down the hall and stopped in front of a closed door. He opened the door, pushed Hermione inside and locked the door before walking away.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Hermione tried the knob, but the door wouldn't budge. She hit her fist against the hard wood, as another wave of tears threatened to overcome her.

"Who is there?" asked a voice.

A sob escaped Hermione. She looked around the dark room for the owner of the voice.

"Hermione, is that you? Come here, Princess." said the old man, who was sitting in an armchair near the fire.

She crossed the room and sat in the unoccupied chair to the man's right.

"What are you doing here on your wedding night?" He asked. "You should be with your husband."

"Do not call this my wedding night." Hermione said sharply. "I will never consider him my husband. He is everything that I hate."

"Now, now, my child. This is for your own good. This is your destiny." He said softly.

"My own good? How could this be for my own good? He's tried to kill me on several occasions! He's the embodiment of evil!"

"Hush, now, Princess. There is no need to shout."

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"Because that is what you are." He stated simply.

Hermione snorted. "Hardly."

"That is the truth."

Hermione continued to stare at the man with disbelief.

"There is no such thing as royalty in the wizarding world," she added, "only those who think too highly of themselves and choose to assume a title."

The old man smiled before asking, "Have you heard of the Buidseach family?"

"Yes," she replied. "The Buidsichean are believed to be the original royal family of dark magic. They originated from a small village in Scotland nearly two thousand years ago. The Buidsichean are the only wizarding family in history that is considered to be royalty. However, they were completely eradicated by Godric Gryffindor in the early 1100s. Since then, the wizarding world has shunned the idea of royalty, and designed a more democratic standpoint."

"For the most part, your answer is correct. Your educational analysis, however, has been clouded by the inaccuracies of historians." The old man said. "It is true that Gryffindor was an extraordinary man, but he was still a man. And as a man, he was easily swayed by beauty. Gryffindor did annihilate the Buidseach family, all but one. Iseabail was the teenage daughter of King Ciaran. She was described as a goddess among man. When Gryffindor laid eyes on Iseabail, he became entranced by her beauty. Though he was many years her senior, he was unable to kill her and decided to take her as his own."

"Wasn't Gryffindor married to Aileen Danell?" Hermione asked, captivated by the mystery of the story.

"Gryffindor was married to Aileen, however, she was barren. Therefore, it is believed that the Gryffindor line ended with Godric. This is yet another inaccuracy. Gryffindor stowed Iseabail at an old estate that belonged to his mother's family. At first, Iseabail refused to even acknowledge his presence when he was in the same room. As months turned to years, Iseabail grew fond of him and eventually forgave him for the slaughter of her family. Gryffindor took Iseabail to his bed and from that union a child was conceived. Iseabail gave birth to a beautiful daughter she called Ceana. Mistaking his obsession for love, Iseabail believed Gryffindor would abandon his barren wife. However, as time passed, it became clear that Gryffindor had no intention of sullying his reputation with the re-appearance of a Buidseach. Heartbroken, Iseabail escaped her imprisonment and fled to France. Iseabail spent the remainder of her life dodging Gryffindor's detection and hiding Ceana deep within the system that wished them both dead."

"So what you are saying is that the Buidseach line did not die out, likewise for the line of Gryffindor. But I don't understand why you are telling me this." Hermione was thrilled by the scandal of the misrepresented history.

"Ceana was my great grandmother," said the old man. "I am called Niallghas. I am the last remaining king of the Buidseach. And you, Hermione, are my granddaughter. The daughter of my only child, my dearest Gillian."

"I'm sorry, sir." Hermione said apologetically, having decided that the old man was senile. "I believe you are mistaken. My mother is called Jean, and she's a muggle."

"I am not mistaken. I know exactly who you are, Hermione." Niallghus said. "You are the child of my Gillian and a wizard by the name of Rabastan Lestrange."

"No!" Hermione shouted. "You are lying! There is no way that I am related to that horrible family."

"I would not lie to you, Hermione. You are the result of your mother's unwise affair with Rabastan Lestrange. He knew she was very powerful, but he failed to see to what extent her powers ranged. Lestrange wanted to own her, to use her as a means to better himself in the eyes of the Dark Lord. At first, I thought the pairing was to be encouraged; however, it quickly became clear that he had no affectionate feelings toward Gillian. When Gillian realized the truth, she was already with child. She withdrew herself from the wizarding world. She refused to have contact with even me, blaming our heritage for her misfortune. Also, she never mentioned the child to Lestrange.

"Lestrange searched for Gillian in every village in Europe. He refused to surrender the woman that would bring him great honor. He came close to capturing her several times, and Gillian knew that he would not give up until he had her. When you were born, Gillian modified the memories of a young muggle couple she had been monitoring for several months. She gave you to the couple, who would raise you believing that you were their own child. After assuring your safety, Gillian confronted Lestrange. She refused to return with him, and he grew angry. They dueled, but it was an unequal fight. Lestrange was accompanied by his brother and sister-in-law. The three overpowered Gillian, who refused to call on her true powers. With her last breath, Gillian placed an enchantment over you, preventing me from finding you while you were still underage. I think she hoped that I would die before you came of age, her final way of punishing me for failing to save her." Tears flowed freely from Niallghus's milky eyes.

Hesitantly, Hermione reached over and grasped the old man's hand.

"I've been of age for over a year now," Hermione said softly. "Why did you wait so long?"

"I am an old man." Niallghus whispered. "I no longer have my health or the resources to search for you on my own. I needed help."

"But why Voldemort?" Hermione asked. "Don't you understand? He is infinitely worse than Rabastan Lestrange will ever be. Rabastan didn't hesitate to kill your daughter. What makes you think Voldemort will spare me?"

"The Dark Lord will not harm you, dear child. He will protect you against those who would. In this distorted vision of the world the Ministry of Magic has instituted, you are not meant to exist. If your true identity were to be uncovered, they would try to dispose of you at all cost. The Dark Lord is your only hope."

Hermione withdrew her hand. "I don't need protection from anyone but him. In the past eighteen years, the only ones who have tried to kill me were following his orders. Why did you allow this to happen?"

"The prophecy said he was the only one who could lead me to you."

"Prophecy?"

"It said, 'Only the darkest of hearts can find the one you seek. Your time is running short, for he is much too weak. Find him in the past, bring him to the day. Whole his soul then be, let it lead your way.' When I finally understood whom the message meant, the Dark Lord had already fallen to Harry Potter. I remembered a spell of great complexity, with the ability to pull the soul through time. But for the soul to remain in the present, a binding of the blood must occur before the sun sets on the last day of the year. I knew that it would be a difficult ritual to perform, but I needed to find you. When I brought Tom Riddle back into being, I was skeptical that he would full-fill my wishes. But after the first night, I knew I had interpreted the prophecy correctly."

"The dreams," she whispered. "That's how he found me, isn't it?"

"Yes, my clever pet." Voldemort said, stepping from the shadows on the opposite side of the room. "Every night your mind would summon me to you, taunting me with your true identity. I let you slip though my fingers for years. That won't happen again."

Hermione stared in shock at the unexpected appearance of her husband. She vacated her chair and inched away from him, as he slowly crossed the room toward her.

"Come now, my dear, it's time for bed." Voldemort said smugly. "It would be rude to keep Niallghus from his slumber."

As if on cue, the old man yawned.

Voldemort closed the distance in a few long strides and placed his hand at the back of her neck. He guided her out the door and back to their room.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: Disclaimer. Blah. Blah. Blah. Ok, ok, ok! So, so, so sorry! School has been trying to kill me, I'm trying to plan a wedding, and I've been sick for like ever! Ok, enough with my excuses. Hopefully, you haven't given up on me. As always, your feedback is much appreciated. –K**

Ten

The next morning, Hermione awoke alone. She breathed a sigh of relief. She found her normal breakfast tray waiting for her on the table along with a copy of the day's _Daily Prophet_. She curled into her usual arm chair with a piece of toast and the paper.

First page, nothing.

Second page, nothing.

Third page, nothing.

Fourth page, nothing.

Page five caught her attention.

_Thomas Riddle and Hermione Granger happily announce their marriage._

No, no, no, no! Hermione dropped the toast and paper as she sprinted to the bathroom. She leaned over the porcelain bowl as her empty stomach heaved with no outcome. After a few minutes, Hermione was able to get her gag reflex under control.

She stood up and turned on the faucet. Splashing cold water on her face, she glanced up at the mirror. In the reflection, she saw Voldemort leaning against the door jam.

"Not feeling well, dearest?" He smirked.

Hermione didn't have it in her to muster a reply. She pushed passed him and crossed the room to the wardrobe. After several minutes of rummaging through the contents, she found a simple black skirt and matching shirt.

Hermione shot a glance at Voldemort, who was watching her with an expression of slight amusement on his face.

"Do you mind?" She asked, annoyed.

"Not at all. Please, continue." An evil grin stretched across his face.

With an aggravated groan, Hermione grabbed her clothes and stomped back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Moments later, she stormed back into the room fully dressed.

Voldemort was sitting on the edge of the bed holding a pair of black flats. Wordlessly, he extended the shoes to her. Hermione snatched the flats and stuffed her feet into them.

Voldemort grabbed her hand and pulled her down onto the bed. A grin spread across his face as Hermione squirmed and tried to break free of his hold. His lips found hers, as his hands greedily roamed her body.

Hermione tried to push him away, but he wouldn't budge.

Voldemort abandoned his assault on Hermione's lips and trailed kisses down her neck. Finding her mouth free, Hermione bite down hard on Voldemort's shoulder. Voldemort gasped at the pain.

He grabbed her chin roughly. "Minx." He growled, before crushing his lips to hers again.

The hand not holding onto her chin slide down her side, grabbed the hem of her skirt, and shoved it up to her waist. Hermione tried to protest, but Voldemort continued his attack on her lips. Voldemort's hand slide over the front of her knickers, easily finding her sensitive spot. Hermione jerked at the touch. She felt Voldemort grin against her mouth. His hand slide beneath the waistband of her knickers and continued to caress her delicate folds. Hermione moaned softly into his mouth. Voldemort's hand released its grip on her face and extracted his wand from his pocket. With a wave of his wand, their clothes vanished.

Voldemort shifted between her legs and swiftly entered her. Hermione moaned as he slowly pumped within her. Hermione wrapped her arms around him; her fingers tightly gripped his back. Voldemort grabbed her leg hitching it up over his hip, allowing him to enter her more deeply. Hermione moaned more loudly.

"I love to hear you moan." Voldemort's ragged voice whispered in her ear.

Hermione felt the pressure build, as Voldemort caressed the hollow of her throat with his tongue. Her back arched as she fell over the edge. In her cloud of bliss, she called out "Tom."

Voldemort captured her lips once again, as his hot seed shot deep inside her. Panting, he rolled onto the bed at her side. The two remained silent as they caught their breath.

Voldemort retrieved his wand from the bedside table; and with another wave of his wand, they were once again dressed.

"We need to go." He said, sitting up.

"Go where?" Hermione asked.

"Your grandfather has requested your presence."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Voldemort led her to the same door as the night before. He stopped in front of the door and turned to her.

"You may find this useful," he said, holding her wand out to her.

Hermione quickly took her wand, giving him a questioning look.

"Merry Christmas, Hermione." He said, before turning and opening the door.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The armchairs from the previous night had been shoved up against the wall, leaving a large empty space between the foot of the bed and the fireplace. The old man was standing in the middle of the floor; his cloudy eyes trained on the door.

"Happy Christmas, Princess." He said, hearing the door click shut.

"Happy Christmas, Niallghus." Hermione said, her mind still on the exchange in the hall.

"Are you ready for our first lesson?" He asked.

"Lesson?" Hermione questioned.

"Yes. It is your birth right. I am not long for this world, Hermione, and this knowledge must not end with me. Let us begin."

The next several hours were filled with magic Hermione had never imagined possible. To her surprise, she quickly learned each task effortlessly.

Finally, the old man yawned and sat down in one of the chairs.

"I think that will do for today. I need to rest now. We will continue with your training tomorrow. Have a good day, Princess." He said, slightly out of breath.

Hermione bid him farewell and left the room. Finding no one waiting for her in the hall, she retraced the route she had taken earlier with Voldemort.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The door opened, and Hermione entered the bedroom. Two dark heads swiveled to stare at her from the armchairs by the fireplace. Voldemort gave her a smirk. Severus Snape stared at her with a blank face.

"Come here, Hermione." Voldemort said. "How was your lesson with the old man?"

Hermione crossed the room. Voldemort stood from his chair, momentarily forgetting Snapes presence.

"It went well." She said hesitantly. She fingered the end of her wand that was stuffed into the waist of her skirt. She pulled it free and held it out in front of her.

"I'm assuming you want this back." She said.

"You may keep it, as long as you don't try anything stupid."

Hermione returned the wand to her waistband.

"Now, what did you learn?" The curiosity evident on his face.

Hermione cupped her hands in front of her and narrowed her eyes. A small sphere of fire floated above her palms.

"How impressive," Voldemort said sarcastically.

Glaring at Voldemort's sardonic tone, Hermione took a deep breath. Gently, she blew on the flame floating in her hands. The small sphere elongated and grew. Hermione continued to blow on the fire, which twisted and reshaped itself.

Snape let out an audible gasp at the sight in front of him. From Hermione's hands, there extended a serpent made completely of fire. The serpent coiled in the air; it's tongue flicking out menacingly.

Hermione brought the palms of her hands together and the creature vanished.

"Very impressive," Voldemort said, still staring at the air the serpent has just vacated. His tone, now, completely void of sarcasm. "What else did the old man teach you?"

"I'll need a volunteer for this next one," Hermione said, smiling.

Voldemort gestured to Snape, whom cautiously vacated his chair.

Hermione turned her smile on Snape, remembering all the nasty comments he had ever said to her.

"So sorry, Professor." Hermione said blankly.

Snape shifted uncertainly.

Hermione lifted her right hand to her temple and narrowed her eyes at the greasy bat-like man in front of her. An agonizing yell emanated from Snape, as he clutched his head in both hands and fell to his knees. After a few seconds, Hermione removed her hand and looked away from her victim. Snape's screams stopped; however, he remained on the floor panting.

Hermione glanced at Voldemort. He had moved closer to her.

"Amazing." He said, more to himself than anyone else.

He took her chin in his hand and tilted her head upward. He brought his lips down on hers.

Hermione closed her eyes at the contact and concentrated her mind. Suddenly, she forcefully pushed Voldemort away.

"I will not be your weapon!" She yelled, taking a step back.

"I didn't say anything about you being a weapon." He said.

"No, but you thought it." She spat.

"Thought it?"

He grabbed her by both arms roughly.

"You dared to read my mind?" He roared, shaking her.

Tears slide down her cheeks, as his fingers dug into her arms.

"I'm s-sorry. I ju-just wanted to see if it would w-work." She whispered.

"Well apparently it did. If it happens again, do not think I will hesitate to kill you. Do you understand?" He yelled, shaking her roughly.

"Yes." She whispered.

He threw her on the sofa, and stormed towards the door.

"Come Severus, we'll finish our conversation elsewhere." Voldemort commanded.

Snape crossed the room quickly and exited through the door. Voldemort slammed the door hard behind him; an audible click of the lock followed.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Hermione sat on the sofa, slowly pulling herself together. She ran her left hand through her hair, wincing when the hair pulled. She removed her hand to investigate. On her fourth finger was a ring. The band was a white gold snake that circled around her finger. Between the snake's head and tail was an ostentatiously large diamond. The snake stared up at her with emerald chip eyes.

Hermione grabbed the ring and tried in vain to pull it off. The ring did not budge.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Several hours later, the door to the room opened once again. Hermione looked up, expecting to see Voldemort. The person who entered, however, was not Voldemort. Rabastan Lestrange sauntered into the room.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione demanded.

"The Dark Lord sent me to retrieve you." Lestrange sneered.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. Tell him to send someone else." She snapped, turning her back to him.

Lestrange walked farther into the room.

"What's the matter, little mudblood?" He jeered. "Did I kill someone you loved?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed, and she spun around to face him.

"As a matter of fact, you did. You killed my mother." Hermione hissed.

Lestrange smirked. "What was her name? Maybe I can tell you how the pathetic muggle begged for her worthless life."

"My mother's name was Gillian, and she wasn't a muggle."

The smirk fell from his face. His eyes roamed over her face. He unconsciously took a step towards her. Hermione moved away, circling around the furniture towards the door.

"That's not possible." Lestrange muttered. "Gillian didn't have a child. I would have known. You do look so much like her, though."

The entire time he talked, he was walking toward her. Hermione, who had continued moving away from him, was now within five feet of the door.

"Except your eyes. They're too dark. You must have gotten those from—" Lestrange stopped, as realization became evident on his face.

"How is that possible?" He asked.

"Why do you think she hid for so long, and then suddenly decided to face you? She didn't want you to know about me! You're a monster!" Hermione screamed.

"You killed her, because she didn't want anything to do with _him_! You probably would have handed me right over to him. Not that it really matters now! What an honor it must be! Your _daughter_ married to your master. You must be so proud." She yelled, tugging her ring.

Lestrange stepped closer. "I didn't mean to," he whispered.

"You didn't mean to? You didn't mean to! You and that crazy bitch murdered her!" Hermione yelled.

"No." Lestrange said, reaching out to touch her arm.

Hermione jumped away.

"Don't touch me!" She shouted.

Lestrange came toward her again. Hermione brought her right hand to her temple, and narrowed her eyes at her father. Lestrange let out a blood-curdling scream and fell to his knees in front of her. Hermione continued to glare at the man withering on the floor in pain. Lestrange's screams intensified as he convulsed at her feet.

"What the hell are you doing?" Voldemort demanded, grabbing her by the arm. He succeeded in dislodging her hand from her temple. The screams stopped. Lestrange lay on the floor panting and clutching at his head.

Tears streamed down Hermione's face. She turned in towards Voldemort, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Oh, Tom." She cried into his shoulder. "This is all his fault."

Voldemort stiffened at his given name. He brushed his hand through her hair.

"Did he hurt you?" Voldemort asked, gently.

Hermione shook her head.

"Leave us. Now." Voldemort ordered, glaring down at the man on the floor.

Lestrange drug himself upright after much effort, and limped out of the room. Voldemort lifted Hermione into his arms, carried her toward the fireplace, and settled into a chair with her on his lap.

"He killed her." Hermione whispered. "He killed her, and then he taunted me."

Voldemort rubbed her back. "I could kill him if you like."

"Voldemort, just keep him away from me." Hermione said, looking up into his eyes. She gave him as sad little smile, leaned in, and gave him a peck on the check.

"Thank you for being so nice to me." She whispered.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Yadda, yadda, yadda. Normal disclaimer crapola. A word to the wise, don't get married! The preparations will literally suck the life out of you. If I have to look at cakes, flowers, or dresses one more time, I seriously might completely lose what little bit of my sanity remains! Ugh, two more months to go. I seriously think I might be the least girly-girl alive!**

Eleven

Hermione tensed, hearing someone breathing beside her. She had fallen asleep alone. After the drama the night before, Voldemort had left for some mysterious meeting. When he still hadn't returned by midnight, Hermione had believed she would have the rest of the night to herself. He was rarely present when she awoke in the mornings anyway.

Rolling slowly toward the edge of the bed, Hermione stole a glance at the sleeping figure beside her. His dark hair, messy from sleep, fell in thick chunks across his forehead. She could see the toned muscles of his shoulders peeking from the top of the blanket. What surprised her most was the angelic look on his face. Devoid of all the anger and hatred it normally portrayed, she was reminded of the boy from her dreams. His soft, easy smile. Long, dark eyelashes covered his jewel-like eyes. He appeared so peaceful, so gentle.

Scolding herself internally for her momentary lapse of judgment, she slipped as quietly as possible from the bed. Not want to wake him; she tiptoed into the bathroom for a shower.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

When she emerged from the bathroom half an hour later, feeling clean and refreshed, she was alone. The bed she had previously vacated was empty. A house elf had obviously attended to the room during her shower. The bed was made; the skirt and shirt she had discarded on the floor after changing into her pajamas were missing; and a breakfast tray was waiting for her on the coffee table.

Per her usual, Hermione curled herself into an armchair with her toast and the _Daily Prophet_. She nibbled at the toast while pursuing the headlines. The same boring topics that had been discussed numerous times filled the first few pages. She was about to toss the paper aside (later she would wish that she had) when an article caught her eye. Once again, the dark letters of her name in print leapt out at her against the grayish paper. Unable to curb her curiosity, she began to read.

**The Wizarding World Reacts to Missing Girl's Marriage**

by Rita Skeeter

As it was brought to the attention of the Wizarding World yesterday, Hermione Granger, now Hermione Riddle, has secretly married a man by the name of Thomas Riddle. At this time, it is unknown how or when the newlyweds met. This is only one of the many questions pertaining to the nuptials. At the time of print, I was unable to uncover the story behind the new mysterious groom. Fear not my dear devoted readers, all shall be revealed in good time, I assure you.

As much of a shock as the announcement was to us all, I felt that the readers whom have been following this story from the beginning, would be eager to learn the reaction of the people closest to the new Mrs. Riddle. I have it in good confidence that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, has not been as traumatized by the news of his former "love-interest" as would be assumed. Potter has been spotted on numerous occasions in the company of Miss Ginevra Weasley. Could the couple be rekindling the lost love in the absence of Granger? Only time can tell.

Several friends of the new Mrs. Riddle have admitted to being "hurt by the fact [they were] unaware of the marriage until reading the announcement yesterday." Others are outraged at the cruelty that has been dealt by the new bride. "I always knew there was something about that girl that didn't quite sit right with me," Molly Weasley explained. "The way she went after men was unsettling. Always chasing after fame and fortune. I thought perhaps she had changed when she started seeing my dear Ronald, but it seems that she only used him as a way to bring herself closer to Harry. As most know, I think of Harry as a son as well; and that viper caused nothing but problems for both of my boys. I can only hope that Harry and Ginny can overcome the hardships they have had to face. I only want the best for all of my kids."

Other sources, whom wish to remain anonymous, have agreed that: "[We've] never heard of this Thomas Riddle before, but he must be rich. Granger always traipsed after the famous and wealthy. It was pathetic the way she followed Viktor Krum around during the Tri-Wizard tournament. Riddle has no idea what he is getting himself into."

All that being said, one can only wish the new couple a happy life. Perhaps Mr. Riddle will be able to curb his wife's appetite for attention. I hope that the lives that have been affected by the new Mrs. Riddle will return to normal. If my sources are correct, the next set of wedding bells we hear may be those of Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley.

A sound of rage erupted from Hermione's throat. She crumpled the paper into a tight ball and threw it in the fire. Standing up, she grabbed the porcelain tea pot from the tray and shattered it against the wall above the fireplace. Pulling her wand from the pocket of her charcoal slacks, she upended the coffee table with a flick of her wrist. Glass shards and untouched food scattered across the floor. With another flick, a vase of flowers on the mantelpiece exploded, raining more glass onto the carpet.

"Are you determined to destroy everything we own?" A bored voice asked from behind her.

Hermione turned her enraged eyes on the man standing by the door. She lifted her wand to curse him. Before she had time to formulate the words, her wand flew from her hand and landed on the floor on the other side of the room. Her anger swelled within her, and she resorted to a physical attack. Quickly closing the distance, she pounded her fists against Voldemort's chest.

"You bastard! This is all your fault!" She yelled.

He did nothing to restrain her. Standing still, he refused to acknowledge her actions.

"They all hate me!" She wailed, eventually succumbing to the tears she had been fighting.

Voldemort slide his arms around her, holding her against him.

"If they can say such terrible things and believe the worst in you, then they never truly loved you. Think about it, Hermione. If they really cared about you, wouldn't they want you to return to them? Wouldn't they be trying to save you from me? They don't love you, Hermione. They never did." Voldemort whispered against her ear. He smoothed the hair away from her face.

Hermione looked up at him through her tears. With a small sad smile, she whispered, "Maybe you're right."


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: ….sorry. Hopefully this makes up for it. Let me know what you think. -K**

Twelve

The next few days fell into an easy routine. Hermione would awake alone. Breakfast consisted of her usual toast and tea curled up in an armchair, while steadfastly ignoring _The Daily Prophet_. After breakfast, Voldemort would appear to escort Hermione to her lesson with Niallghus. After her lesson, Hermione would return to her room and practice what she had learned in her lesson. Supper was served promptly at 6PM by the same cranky house elf. At 8:30PM, Voldemort would arrive for the evening. He would question her about her lesson, and then the two would sit and read in silence. When they went to bed, Voldemort would sleep with a possessive arm wrapped around Hermione's waist.

Hermione kept her focus on her lessons and learning about her family's history. This diversion prevented her from dwelling on the betrayal she had suffered at the hands of her former friends. Sometimes before she fell asleep, their hurtful words would creep into her mind. Silent tears would pool on her pillow. More than once, she felt a soft caress on the back of her head. _Was Voldemort trying to give her comfort?_

One night, near the end of the week, Voldemort entered the room hours before his normal time.

"You're early." Hermione stated. She was neither happy nor disappointed in seeing him.

"We have plans tonight, my dear." Voldemort said, pulling open the doors of the armoire.

"What plans?" Hermione questioned.

"It _is_ New Year's Eve, Hermione. We will be attending the annual New Year's Eve Ball at Malfoy Manor." Voldemort stated, pulling a silvery gown from her wardrobe.

"I am **not** going to _any_ party given by the Malfoy's!" Hermione shouted, jumping up from her chair.

Voldemort tossed the gown on the bed and quickly crossed the room. He caught her chin in his hand and wrenched her head upward.

"We _will _be attending. And you _will_ be on your best behavior. Am I making myself clear?" He sneered, staring coldly into her eyes.

"Fine." She whispered.

"Good girl." Voldemort said sarcastically, before bringing his lips down to meet hers. His hand, that had been gripping her chin, relinquished its hold and moved to support the back of her head. He deepened the kiss, as he felt her hands come up to rest on his chest.

Without breaking the kiss, Voldemort scooped her up into his arms and carried her toward the bed.

Hermione pulled back. "Won't we be late?"

"Lord Voldemort is never late." He smirked, removing her pants. "I'm merely helping my wife get changed."

Their remaining clothing was quickly discarded, and Voldemort entered her swiftly. They both reached their release together. Hermione reached up and brushed his hair from his eyes.

"Oh, Tom." She whispered. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, as she watched a dark shadow pass over his eyes.

"I'm sorry. It was an accident. Please, forgive me. I pr-promise it won't happen a-again." She stammered, looking up at him with scared eyes.

He pulled her hand from her mouth and kissed her softly. "It's alright, Hermione. I'm not going to hurt you. You were chosen as my equal. You alone may call me by my given name."

"Thank you." She whispered and brought her lips up to meet his again.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The annual Malfoy New Year's Eve Ball was a highly anticipated pureblood social event. Paparazzi crowded the gates of the manor, manically snapping pictures of the high-class guests. The following day, the social page of _The Daily Prophet_ would be riddled with detailed descriptions of the evening's events.

When Voldemort and Hermione arrived at the apparition point at the end of the long Malfoy drive, Hermione gasped at the sight.

"There are so many reporters. Isn't there another entrance we could take?" She asked, trying to conceal herself behind a large tree.

"We have to use the same entrance as everyone else. All of the other entrances are warded to prevent uninvited guests from crashing the party." Voldemort stated, taking her hand.

"You can't play the 'I'm-the-almighty-Dark-Lord' card?"

Voldemort chuckled and lead her down the drive. "Just smile and look pretty. You'll be fine."

At the entrance of the gate, a formally dressed butler with a clipboard greeted the guests.

"Mr. and Mrs. Riddle." Voldemort said to the butler.

Upon hearing the names, the reporters and photographers began calling out to the young couple.

"Over here! Look this way! Mrs. Riddle, do you have a statement about the accusations that have been printed against you? How do you feel about Harry Potter rekindling his relationship with his ex-girlfriend? How did the two of you meet? Please, just one picture!" They shouted over one another.

Voldemort looked down at his scared wife. He cupped her face with his free hand and kissed her. Cameras flashed all around them. Voldemort broke the kiss and escorted his wife through the gate.

"That was terrible." Hermione complained.

"You really know how to make a man feel good about himself, my dear." Voldemort smirked.

"Not the kiss, you insufferable git. The reporters and their questions. Do they not have a life of their own?"

Their conversation came to a halt as they entered the manor. The entrance hall was brightly light with hundreds of white and silver candles. Vases of white roses were strategically placed on every flat surface. Crisp music from a live orchestra wafted out of the open doors to the elegant ballroom. Another butler, identical to the one working the gate, took their cloaks.

The couple entered the ballroom, and Voldemort expertly spun Hermione onto the dance floor. Once again, Hermione marveled at his skillful dancing. The music slowed, and Hermione rested her head on his chest.

"Happy birthday, Tom." She whispered, as they swayed to the soft beat.

Voldemort kissed the top of her head. "Thank you, love."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Across the room, unknown to the newlyweds, a dark trio was watching their interaction.

"Disgusting mudblood." Bellatrix sneered. "I don't know what the Dark Lord sees in her."

"Do not call her that!" Rabastan snarled at his sister-in-law.

"Have a crush, brother? I wasn't aware you had a taste for dirty blood." Bellatrix said, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't be disgusting, Bella. And her blood is cleaner than yours." Rabastan said, watching Hermione smile as the Dark Lord twirled her around the dance floor.

"Are you insinuating that Harry Potter's little bookworm is a pureblood?" Rodolphus Lestrange asked.

"Really look at her. Doesn't she remind you of anyone?" Rabastan questioned.

The three Lestanges watched as Voldemort turned Hermione to face the crowd.

"Sweet, merciful mother of Merlin!" Bellatrix gasped after a few minutes. "It's Gillian, but how? She's dead."

"She's not Gillian." Rabastan snarled. "She's her daughter. _My_ daughter."

Bellatrix and her husband stared at him. Slowly a smile worked its way across Bellatrix's face.

"Congratulations, Rabastan. You should be proud. It is a great honor that the Dark Lord has chosen her as his wife." Bellatrix stated.

"_Proud_? I should be _proud_? Proud that after all these years I find out I have a daughter. That some part of Gillian still lives on, and _he_ has taken her for his own. I'm not sure why he married her, but do you really think he will hesitate to kill her when she is no longer of use to him?" Rabastan lashed out at his sister-in-law, before storming out of the room.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Several hours later, Hermione and Voldemort were sitting alone at a table. Severus Snape approached the couple tentatively.

"You wanted to see me, my Lord?" Snape asked, bowing his head.

"Yes, Severus, have a seat." Voldemort said, before turning to Hermione. "I need to speak with Severus for a moment. Why don't you wait for me in the back garden? I'll be right out."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Hermione walked out into the back garden. It was decorated with more candles and roses. A warming charm had been placed over the entire garden, preventing the cold and snow from reaching the guests. The garden was deserted, so Hermione made herself comfortable on one of the marble benches against the wall.

"If it isn't the Dark Lord's little mudblood whore." A snide voice said, pulling her from her thoughts.

Draco Malfoy stood in front of her with a look of disgust.

"Leave me alone, Malfoy." Hermione said, standing to leave.

Malfoy grabbed her arm roughly, and push her up against the wall. Hermione felt the rough bricks dig into the exposed skin of her back. She pushed against him, but he held her in place.

"There's no use fighting it, mudblood. You know you've always wanted me." He said, crushing his lips to hers. Hermione bit his lip hard, drawing blood.

"Let me go!" She yelled.

Draco slapped her hard across the face. "You little bitch! You will pay for that."

Hermione tried to fight him, but he was much stronger. She tried to bring her right hand to her temple, but Malfoy grabbed her wrist and pinned it above her head. Gripping her arm with his left hand, he used his right to pull on the skirt of her dress. Hermione heard the delicate silk rip. She yelled for help, but her voice was drowned out by the music. Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks. She felt him fumbling one-handed with the button of his trousers. That was when she saw it, the dark ink peeking out from under the cuff of his white dress shirt. She reached up with her free hand and dug her thumb as hard as she could into his left forearm.

Malfoy let out a scream of fury, as pain seared through his dark mark. Gripping both of her arms, he threw her to the ground. He pulled his wand from his pocket and stood over her.

Seconds later, Malfoy's body was sent flying across the garden. Voldemort stalked toward the blonde boy, as several other guests poured into the garden.

The night air was filled with screams, as Voldemort cast the Cruciatus Curse in the youngest Malfoy.

Rabastan broke away from the other on-lookers and rushed to Hermione's side.

"Are you alright?" He asked, concerned. He helped her to her feet.

"I'm fine." She said, turning away from him.

Hermione watched her assailant's body withering on the ground. Voldemort glared down at the boy as he held the curse.

Hermione placed a hand on Voldemort's shoulder.

"Tom." She whispered. "I'm okay."

Reluctantly, Voldemort lifted the curse. Malfoy slowly stood up.

"I don't need protection from you, mudblood." He sneered.

Hermione felt something deep inside of her snap. "I wasn't trying to protect you, Malfoy. I was merely concerned that my husband, being the merciful Lord that he is, would make your punishment to lenient."

With a smirk, she cupped her hands in front of her. She blew softly across her palms. A fiery serpent raced through the air, wrapping itself around the boy's body. The air was once again ripe with his screams and the smell of burning flesh assaulted the noses of the bystanders. His screams died out as his body fell to the ground. An evil smile remained on her face as she glared down at her attacker.

A hand gripped her shoulder, shaking her gently, causing her to lose her concentration. The flames extinguished immediately.

"Hermione, stop. You're going to kill him." Voldemort said in her ear.

She looked up at him. He watched as the darkness in her eyes melted back to their usual brown.

"He doesn't deserve to live." She whispered.

Voldemort smiled down at her for a moment, and then he kissed her.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy rushed to their son's limp body. His breathing was shallow. A spiral of bleeding and blistered burns wrapped around his torso. Bits of clothing were stuck to his charred skin. Narcissa wept silently, while Lucius tended to Draco's injuries.

"Let this be a lesson to you all." Voldemort said with authority, wrapping a possessive arm around Hermione's waist. "An offense against my wife is the same as an offense against Lord Voldemort himself. Next time, I will not stop her."

Off to the side, Bellatrix leaned into Rabastan and whispered, "I don't think you have to worry about her anymore."


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: I own nothing. This is all for fun. Well the semester is coming to an end, so hopefully that means I will be able to work on this story more. I had actually hoped to be finished with it by now, but life seems to like to rain on my parade. I still have a lot of things I want to cover, so this could be going for a long time. As always, I enjoy hearing from you. –K**

Thirteen

One day near the end of January, Niallghus ended their lesson early. The old man's health had been deteriorating rapidly, and he was requiring more and more rest. Hermione bid her grandfather farewell and closed the door behind her.

Ordinarily, Voldemort would be waiting for her in the hall when she left her lesson. Since the lesson had ended nearly an hour early, Hermione found herself alone in the hall. Using the situation to her advantage, Hermione decided that it was time she investigated her new home.

After half an hour of wandering down empty passageways, she found herself in a large library. Shelves of books covered the walls; as well as, several free-standing shelving units dividing most of the room into long aisles. A large wooden table with four chairs was positioned to the right of the doorway. To the left, two overstuffed sofas faced each other across a glass coffee-table.

Hermione wandered down the aisles of books, running her hand across the leathery spines. She found a book that seemed interesting and made herself comfortable on one of the sofas. Before long, she was sound asleep.

Hermione was jolted wake by the realization that she was no longer alone in the room. She sat up quickly, reaching in her pocket for her wand. She looked up to see Rabastan Lestrange sitting on the other sofa.

"What do you want?" Hermione asked a little harshly.

"I just want to talk to you. Please, let me explain." Rabastan pleaded.

"There is nothing that you can say that I would want to hear." Hermione retorted, as she prepared to leave.

"You don't understand, Hermione. I loved her. I still love her. It was an accident. A terrible accident that I will never forgive myself for, but please, let me explain it to you." Rabastan continued to plead.

Hermione resumed her seat. Her tone was cold when she said, "You have five minutes."

"I met Gillian during my seventh year at Hogwarts. She was a transfer student from some private school in Spain. She was the most beautiful and talented witch I had ever met. I fell in love with her instantly. It was at this same time that the Dark Lord was gaining his power. I, like so many of my family, felt that it was a great honor to serve him. Gillian, however, didn't see it that way. The first time she saw my dark mark she wouldn't talk to me for days. I begged her for forgiveness, and finally she gave in. I thought that everything would be fine. I thought she would eventually agree to serve the Dark Lord, but she didn't. She told me that her father would never approve of her taking the mark. She said that her father did not support the Dark Lord. I told her I didn't care. I told her that she didn't have to take the mark. I even proposed. She laughed at me, and the next day she was gone." Rabastan said, glancing over at Hermione.

Hermione nodded her head for him to continue.

"I searched for her for nearly a year, but she would move on before I reached her. Finally, I was able to corner her before she could escape from a small muggle village in France. I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn't listen. Bellatrix and Rodolphus had helped me track her there. She was throwing curses at all of us. I'm not sure what curses were cast, but three curses collided. There was an explosion. I was knocked unconscious by the blast. When I came to, I found her under the rubble from a muggle house. Her rib cage had been completely crushed. There was nothing that I could do to bring her back." Rabastan sobbed into his hands.

"I just wanted you to know that I never meant for her to get hurt. I just wanted her back." He continued. "I guess now I understand why she ran. She had your best interests at heart. She was trying to protect you from him."

"But it doesn't matter now, does it?" Hermione said, sadly. "He got to me anyway."

"I would never have just handed you over to him, you have to believe that. I'm terrified of what he will do to you. I've witnessed him do terrible things. I just found you; I don't want to lose you again." Rabastan said, as he hesitantly reached for her hand.

Hermione allowed him to hold her hand. After a moment, she said, "I don't plan on going anywhere."

"Does he hurt you?" Rabastan asked.

"No." She whispered. "No, he doesn't hurt me. At times, it's almost as if he actually cares."

The two were startled by a chuckle from the doorway.

"How touching." Voldemort teased, as he walked toward her. He looked at Rabastan. "I will deal with you later. Leave us, now."

Rabastan glanced at Hermione.

"I'll be fine." She reassured him.

Rabastan left. The large wooden door flung shut and locked behind him.

"Silly, little girl." Voldemort taunted.

"What do you want, Tom?" Hermione asked, picking up her book. She walked across the room and replaced it on the shelf. She turned around, expecting him to still be standing where she had left him. However, he had been right behind her the entire time.

Voldemort smirked down at her surprised expression.

"You." He said, simply.

"What?" She asked, confusion evident on her face.

"You asked me want I wanted, and I told you. I want _you_." He said, leaning into her.

Hermione rolled her eyes. _Was he really using cheesy pick up lines on her?_

Without warning, Voldmort lifted her up and pinned her against the bookshelf. Hermione felt the leather book spines dig into her back. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he assaulted her neck with his mouth. She moaned as he bit down softly on her shoulder.

"Tell me you want me, too." He whispered in her ear.

"I want you, too." She said, before capturing his lips with her own.

He set her back on her feet, causing Hermione to emit a disappointing grunt. He chuckled at her discontent. Using one hand to hold her face to his, he expertly relieved himself of his pants with the other. When he was free of his pants, he reached up her skirt and removed her knickers by curling one finger around the waistband.

"Tell me how much you want it, Hermione." He said, caressing her sensitive spot with his finger.

Hermione moaned into his mouth, "I want you so much."

Once again, he lifted her and pinned her against the bookshelf. He buried himself deep inside her core. He moved himself slowly in and out of her wet passage. Hermione dug her nails into his shoulders as she lost herself in her orgasm.

Without breaking their connection, Voldemort supported her with his arms. He walked the few steps to the sofa and laid her down. When they were both horizontal, he resumed his motion.

"Tell me how much you like it." He whispered.

"Oh, Tom." She moaned. "I _really_ like it."

A small smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Tell me you love me, Hermione."

Hermione stared up at him in shock.

"I-I love you." She stammered, a smile slowly creeping across her face. In that moment, she knew that she had spoken the truth.

Voldemort kissed her passionately. Together they reached completion.


End file.
